


A Scam Artist in Ur

by MarlynnOfMany



Category: Ea-nasir - Fandom
Genre: Ancient Sumerian Customer Complaints, Con Artists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 13:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarlynnOfMany/pseuds/MarlynnOfMany
Summary: Ea-nasir likes making people mad.  He is very good at it.  Good enough to be remembered for quite some time.





	A Scam Artist in Ur

**Author's Note:**

> There was a historical fiction contest at my local writer's club. I didn't win a thing, but it was a great excuse to write this, which I consider a win of a different sort!
> 
> I learned about Ea-nasir on [Tumblr](https://marlynnofmany.tumblr.com), and will be forever grateful.

The sun had barely started to warm the marketplace, and Ea-nasir was already witness to an exquisite display of fury. The man stared him down with white garments dusty from travel, face as red as last night’s sunset, and brows furrowed in a scowl that would have wilted lesser men. Ea-nasir showed only a haughty smile calculated to set him off further. He gestured toward the copper ingots on the table between them. 

“If you want them,” he said, “Take them! If not, go away.” 

He watched the man’s jaw clench and his hands curl into fists. Ea-nasir was ready to duck and cry foul, but the messenger thought better of it and settled for yelling at length about Ea-nasir’s business practices. The ingots were not the fine quality he had come for on behalf of his friend, and how dare Ea-nasir treat him so? He had not traveled through enemy territory for this! 

Ea-nasir merely repeated himself, and watched the man turn on his sandaled heel and storm away in a cloud of kicked sand and blasphemous curses. Other marketplace customers parted to let him pass. One woman in a blue dress with an urn on her head was nearly knocked off her feet, but she stepped aside in time. The man kicked a palm tree on the corner, then disappeared behind the mud brick wall of another shop. 

Passersby new to the marketplace looked after him in surprise. The neighboring merchants just shook their heads and got back to business with their regular customers. This type of scene was nothing new. 

Ea-nasir smirked as he bundled away the copper ingots and tidied the displays on his table. This likely wouldn’t be the last he’d see of that particular messenger, or at least of messengers sent on Nanni’s behalf. The customer was proving to be more stubborn than most, trying several times to get the quality he felt he deserved while others would have given up, never mind having already paid. Ea-nasir suppressed a giggle. 

This business as copper merchant let him profit well enough in money, and better yet in satisfaction. Nanni did technically still owe Ea-nasir one mina of silver, but that was a trifling matter. Ea-nasir withheld the fine quality copper because it pleased him to do so. 

More customers strolled past the shop, their sandaled footsteps quiet but their conversation loud. They didn’t give Ea-nasir a glance. He frowned slightly. But more were coming, and the day would be picking up. 

He pulled out an ingot of his finest grade copper and admired its shine. He leaned to position it in a shaft of morning sunlight, to reflect its brilliance onto the street. People would appreciate such material, though he had no intention of selling copper this fine. He would bargain for it of course, and promise a certain quantity on a specific day. Then the people’s reactions would be a pleasure to behold. Assuming they noticed the difference. 

One unsubtle flash of reflected sunlight caught the eye of a man he didn’t recognize. The potential customer approached the stall while Ea-nasir put on his most affable face. He tried to guess whether the man would be the sort to object to a little friendly swindling, or duck his head and avoid the confrontation. It was possible that he could actually kick up enough of a fuss to drive Ea-nasir out of this business like others before, but if Nanni hadn’t done it yet, he doubted this man would. 

It was a pity, he reflected, that he couldn’t display his cleverness for the world to see. He had made a significant amount of money this way. And more importantly to him, he had perfected the art of driving fellow men into towering rage. It was a beauty to see. 

* * * * *

Near the bank of the Euphrates, where the setting sun turned white buildings as yellow as the sand, and green patches of grain lay between orderly irrigation channels, two men stood under a palm tree and shouted together. 

“This contempt will not stand!” said Nanni. “No other merchant has treated me this way!” 

“Nor me!” agreed Arshaka. “What does he take us for?” 

Nanni gestured widely, turquoise bracelets clattering. “He is utterly unrepentant. I have sent numerous messages, and still nothing! The scribes know me by name, and can guess what I want written at first glance!” 

Arshaka nodded his bald head. “It is beyond useless. I have come to feel that he enjoys our protests, in no wholesome way.” He stroked his beard. “Perhaps simple protestations are not the route we should take.” 

Nanni stilled. “What do you propose?” 

“There are enough tablets of angry words aimed at him. Let us curse the man.” 

Nanni thought a moment, then nodded once. “Agreed. The gods will set things right.” 

“At the very least, they should make the world aware of his devious practices.” 

* * * * *

Ea-nasir set the latest tablet in a chest with others, gently so as not to crack the clay. He planned to read this one again; it was particularly eloquent in its pompous irritation. He could only read the first lines before breaking into laughter. It brought up such memories of the man’s face, and the marvelous shades of purple it had turned! Truly this was one of the better mementos in his collection. 

He looked around the room in satisfaction. Organized chests were laid out so that he could relive his favorite moments whenever he pleased, or make certain that he was not dealing with someone dangerous he’d encountered before. Ea-nasir was scrupulous about avoiding those. The copper trade was an enjoyable one. He hoped to make the most of his time before moving on. 

With one last glance at the newest tablet, he closed the chest and took his leave of the room. It was a pity, he thought again, that the world would never know the extent of his cleverness. Perhaps after his death, someone might read his tablets, but he doubted that many people would hear about them. 

Only a person or two from the neighborhood, or former customers at most. No more than that. He estimated that word of his life and death would be forgotten in due time. 

It would be sheer absurdity to imagine that the tablets would survive thousands of years, to be discovered in a time when the cuneiform on them was a lost art. Catalogued and displayed in a museum of a nation not yet founded. Their images shared around the world through a method of communication that would sound like far-off godly magic now. 

Their messages — and Ea-nasir’s reputation — immortalized. 

Sheer absurdity.


End file.
